


kiss your fist and touch the sky

by Veniae



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, an impromptu party @whitestone, and percy's Inventions, but mostly just pure and wholesome, critrole big bang, inspired by shadrad's lovely artwork!, spoilers up to episode 73, thank you i hope you enjoy this!, vox machina catching a break
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8653819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Veniae/pseuds/Veniae
Summary: After the fight with Vorugal, Vox Machina decide a break is long overdue. Cassandra has a request for her brother.





	

The ravine was quiet. After the clamour of battle, shouting and roars and the flapping of wings, Scanlan twitched in discomfort; it was _too_ quiet. His ears were ringing, too; his legs felt weak and shaky.

He walked up to the edge of the cliff overlooking the ravine and plopped down on the frozen ground. All the way down, in the gorge, he could see the Ravenites scurrying back towards their cave, whatever they had salvaged from Vorugal’s remains getting dragged in tow. The dragon’s corpse itself was a prominent feature right under him. White bones protruded from the ground, already picked clean and tangled in the roots of Fenthras’s magical tree. It had a certain aesthetic value, Scanlan supposed, but he couldn’t bring himself to look at it without his stomach twisting unpleasantly.

He heaved a sigh. He was _so_ ready to go home already.

The crunch of heavy footfalls pulled him from his thoughts. Without looking up, he scooted sideways on the relatively even rock he was sitting on. Grog flopped down next to him.

For a while, neither of them said anything. Scanlan wondered if Grog was as weary as he felt.

“So, we got another one of ‘em,” Grog said eventually.

“Sure did, buddy. On to the next one, huh?” He tried to keep his voice cheerful.

Grog hummed. “We’ve already killed, like, two of them. Three if we count the blue one. That’s some sort of victory already, right?”

Scanlan could hear Percy’s voice, and Vax’s and Keyleth’s and the others’, in his head, insisting that no, there would be no victory until the whole Conclave was destroyed, but he ignored them. “Yes,” he said firmly, “yes, it is a victory.”

Grog was nodding beside him. “I just feel like, I dunno, we need to… commemorate this. Don’t tell ‘em I said that, but the others look like they need some cheering up. I think we should--”

“Grog,” Scanlan cut him out, “I think we should throw a party.”

“That’s what I was--yeah?”

Scanlan grinned, feeling excitement warm him up on the inside. He thought about what their life had been recently: the decimated Draconia, Percy’s still body on the ground--he nodded slowly. “Oh yeah, I absolutely think so.”

* * *

That was a terrible idea.

“That is a terrible idea,” Percy informed Scanlan.

He got a chuckle and a shake of the head for his trouble. “I had a feeling you might say that. I beg to differ.”

Percy took off his glasses and proceeded to wipe the soot off with the hem of his shirt. He raised an eyebrow at Scanlan. “You are aware that we’re currently at war?”

“I am, and I’m sure something is bound to remind me if I’m ever in danger of forgetting it.” Scanlan sighed, opening his arms. “That’s exactly my point. We’ve had the _worst_ couple of weeks, we’re at war with motherfucking _ancient dragons_ , and, honestly, we’re lucky to be alive. I think we all forget that sometimes.”

At this, Percy frowned. There was still a constant dull ache in his body, a throbbing where lead had found purchase. It was a constant reminder that he was alive, but luck’s role in that was questionable.

Scanlan must have picked up on his unease, because his brows furrowed. “We could all use a break. And not everyone has a workshop where they can lock themselves in when it gets too much.”

Percy allowed himself to consider the point. “You think a celebration would help with morale?”

Scanlan was nodding eagerly. “Think about the people in your town, Percy! Don’t you think they deserve something to look forward to that isn’t being immolated by a dragon?”

“When you put it like this…” Percy chuckled dryly. Scanlan had an uncanny knack for hitting the weak spots.

And… Percy probably did need a diversion. After they had returned from Draconia, he had holed himself up in his workshop, but he had been unable to focus on anything, his thoughts meandering out of his control as they did.

“Alright,” he nodded. “I’m on board. We will mobilise as many people as possible, so the preparations take minimal time. Did you have a date in mind?”

Scanlan, looking all too pleased with himself, nodded. “Actually, I was aiming for tomorrow.”

“Oh.” He considered this. Between their magic users, they could probably reduce the cooks’ workload, and he expected there were still enough bottles in the castle cellar to cover at least part of the alcoholic needs of the event. But first…

Percy stood up and put his tools back in their box. He tugged his apron off and dropped it before turning to Scanlan. “I need to talk to my sister.”

Grinning, Scanlan followed him out of the workshop.

* * *

Cassandra rubbed her temples. Pressure had been building up in her head throughout the night, and it felt like it might just explode if she stared at these papers for another minute. The early afternoon sunlight pierced through the window, irritating her eyes further.

She groaned and let her head drop on the desk.

Just as she was teetering on the brink of sleep, a knock on the door snapped her back to consciousness.

She raised her head blearily to see her brother walk into the room.

The warmth of relief and gratefulness flooded her body and she felt herself smile. She’d known he and his companions had returned, of course, but seeing him for herself, dirty and dishevelled, looking about as exhausted as she was feeling, but _alive_ and in one piece., she felt a weight in her chest lift.

She stood up to greet him. “Percival,” she said simply.

“Hello, sister.” He made to step towards her, but then caught himself. She wished he wouldn’t have.

“You look like hell,” she told him, and he huffed in amusement.

“I feel like it too.” He looked at her with a frown. “I hope you’re doing better?”

Cassandra made a non-committal hand gesture. “So, you slayed another dragon, did you?”

“We’re working our way down the list.” His lips curled into a small smile. “This should be over soon enough.”

Cassandra hoped with her whole being he was right.

“So,” she straightened up, “was there something I could do for you?”

“Right. Yeah.” He hesitated for a moment. “I was talking to Scanlan and he seems to think that a celebration of our victory against Vorugal would improve everyone’s morale. I was wondering how that idea sits with you.”

“A celebration,” Cassandra echoed.

Percy ran a hand through his hair. “I think we have enough casters to organise and supply a feast without it being detrimental to the war effort, and--”

“I think this is a great idea.” She could see it in her mind already, a night of thinking about something other than her responsibilities, maybe grab something to drink with Vox Machina and get to know this found family of her brother’s.

“You do?” Percy sounded surprised.

“Yes. I trust you will make sure to use as little resources as possible?”

He nodded. “Of course. We were thinking about doing it tomorrow. We can’t afford any more elaborate preparations.”

Cassandra opened her mouth to agree, then a thought gave her pause. “Percy.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you remember that one time when you made those colourful explosions for my birthday all those years ago?”

Percy knitted his eyebrows, slowly nodding. “Yeah, I do remember that?” His eyes widened a bit behind the glasses.

Before Cassandra could think better of it, she blurted out, “Do you think you could do that for tomorrow?”

A smile spread on Percy’s face, warm and bright, and he suddenly looked his age.

“Why, yes. Yes, I could.”

Cassandra barely stopped herself from throwing her arms around him.

* * *

“So,” Keyleth threw a sidelong look at Percy while they were making their way to the Sun Tree, “what _are_ we looking for in Vasselheim?”

Percy hesitated. “I… need blackpowder. It’s not for what you think it is, though,” he added quickly, almost by way of apologising.

Keyleth frowned, confused at his defensiveness. When he fell silent, though, her curiosity won out. “What is it for, then?”

“It’s for the celebration tomorrow,” he said, and Keyleth recognised the small smile that meant his mind was with whatever contraption he was planning. “Cassandra asked me to do something.” His whole face lit up at that, and Keyleth couldn’t help but smile back. The two de Rolos really needed something to bond over.

Something happy and hopeful, for once.

They’d reached the Sun Tree at this point and Percy gestured for Keyleth to do her magic on it. “I’ll tell you about it on the other side,” he promised.

Keyleth nodded and placed her hands on the rough bark. _Hello, friend._

***

She was familiar with the dizziness and lightheadedness that came with teleportation, but she was sure the vertigo she was experiencing presently had nothing to do with hopping through any trees.

She sniffled, her nose irritated by the smell of black powder and other chemical components, overlaid with poorly handled tea leaves. She lingered by the door and watched Percy venture into the miniscule house. Shop? She wasn’t sure.

“Victor?” Percy called out.

“What?!” came a high-pitched, gravelly reply, and a tiny man skittered out of one of the corners of the room. “What do you want?!”

“Um,” Percy said, and Keyleth heard the suppressed laughter in his voice. “I would like to purchase some black powder, if you would be so kind.”

“How much?!”

“A _lot_.” Percy was grinning.

The caricature human stared at him through his gigantic glasses. “What d’you need a lot of black powder for?” he demanded.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Percy began.

Keyleth stood there, careful not to touch anything and to breathe as shallowly as she could, just taking in the interaction between Percy and the weird small man. Percy tried to bargain with him, but only half-heartedly; it was obvious he was more amused than anything.

Then, just as Victor was about to hand over the negotiated amount of powder (Keyleth recognised the metal claw-like hand Percy had made for him), he paused. “I want one more thing.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“I want to come with you and see these _colourful explosions_ that you speak of.”

Percy cast a wide-eyed look at Keyleth. “Uh, Victor, I’m not sure that would be good for your health, after all, it’s very far away and--”

Victor snatched the bag of black powder and clutched it to his chest. “That’s part of the price now.”

“But…” Percy trailed off.

Keyleth stepped up to the two of them. “Why not, actually? There will be room at the feast for one more person, won’t there?”

“There is going to be a feast?!”

“Indeed, there is! Are you are very welcome to it. Isn’t he, Percy?”

Percy was giving her an insistent look. She beamed at him and he cocked an eyebrow in a silent question. She nodded reassuringly.

Percy sighed. “Yes. Yes, you are very welcome, Victor. Would you like to come with us?”

Victor grinned at them, revealing several missing teeth. “Yes! Let’s go!”

* * *

Vex stood in the courtyard in front of Whitestone Castle’s main entrance, her hands on her hips. “I have no idea how we’re going to fit a whole town here,” she turned to Trinket, who sat at her side. “Or find enough tables, for that matter.”

The courtyard had a gentle decline from the castle to the gate, and it was uneven, with the occasional bump or muddy hollow. It was nowhere near optimal, but it would have to do. Vex sighed and petted Trinket on the back. “Let’s look for Aunt Pike, alright, darling?”

Trinket whined in agreement.

They found Pike in front of the temple of Sarenrae, talking to a group of people. Pike glanced up and saw them. She beamed. Vex smiled back and raised her hand in greeting, but lingered a little ways off while Pike finished her conversation. When the other people dispersed, Pike jogged up to her.

“Hey, Vex!”

“How are you, Pike? Sarenrae business?”

“I’m fine!” Pike’s smile was as radiant as always, and Vex almost felt physically warmer. “And no, actually! I asked them to help out with the party preparations. They’re going to carry some tables into the courtyard.” Her smile widened. “It’s so nice that we’re having a party, isn’t it?”

“You think so?”

Pike was nodding earnestly. “Yes, don’t you?”

“I…” Vex worried her bottom lip. “I think it’s a good idea, but I’m afraid it’s dangerous to invest resources into something like that just now.”

Pike’s smile faded. “Vex, you… don’t spend as much time here as I do, but, well. The people are tired and scared and it’s... hard, for them to hold on to hope right now.” She beamed at Vex again. “So yeah! I think it’s a great idea to celebrate our victory.”

“Alright.” Vex realised she was feeling better about it already. “Then I’m glad we’re doing this.” She paused, hesitating again. “Pike, darling, how are you?”

“Me?” Pike let out a small laugh, but Vex didn’t miss the sadness that crossed her face. “I’m fine, Vex! Of course, I’ll be feeling better once we kill Thordak, but,” she shrugged, “yeah, I’m fine!”

Vex brushed a lock of pale hair behind Pike’s ear. “You know you can tell me if something’s bothering you, right?”

The cheerful façade crumbled; Pike let out a small sigh. “I know. Thank you, Vex. It’s just… I’m gonna be fine, I just need some time to process some stuff. But I appreciate your saying that.”

“You’re very dear to me, Pike, and I’m here whenever you need me.” She scoffed. “So long as we’re not fighting an ancient red dragon, I suppose.”

Pike chuckled. “Alright.” Vex’s heart felt a little lighter in her chest.

“Wonderful. Yeah, okay, let’s go and see if we can’t help with the preparations, shall we?”

“Sure!”

* * *

In the two days since they came back from fighting Vorugal, everyone was constantly scurrying around, doing one thing or the other, getting ready for the party. Grog helped with what he could, which was mainly carrying heavy shit around. He had to pull two villagers out of a caved-in sewer at one point, but other than that, it was mostly lugging tables.

He kept seeing his family around. Pike and Vex were with the people ordering the tables in front of the castle. Scanlan was going around telling people about the party. Keyleth had gone off looking for Kashaw, muttering something about heroes and feasts. And Vax… well, if Grog _had_ seen him, someone wasn’t doing their job right.

He hadn’t as much as caught a glimpse of Percy’s white hair, though.

Grog worried for Percy. He had died, like, for real, less than a week ago, and Grog knew how rough that was. He’d been trying to keep an eye on him since, but he couldn’t very well do that when Percy fucked off like this, could he.

At least he had a fairly good idea where he could find him.

When he entered the workshop, he immediately saw Percy’s form hunched over his table. He looked alive, which was all Grog really wanted to…

“Pass me the big box on that shelf, please,” Percy said, pointing at a shelf next to Grog’s head without as much as looking up.

“Uhh,” Grog said as he took another step inside. “This one?” he pointed.

Still not looking up, Percy said, “Yes. Please bring it over here.”

Grog complied, lifting the cylindric box (carefully), and carrying it to the table.

“Open it and use this,” Percy pushed what looked like a small spoon towards him, “to scoop up some and place it on the scales.”

Grog cleared his throat. “Okay.” He followed the instructions.

When the amount on the scales was enough, Percy held up his hand. “Thank you.”

“What is this gonna be? Another giant exploding thing?”

Percy finally looked up from the contraption. He smirked, “Not exactly the sort of exploding thing you’re expecting, but yes.” He looked away and sighed. “It’s something I made for Cassandra when we were both younger, and she asked if I could do it again for tonight.”

“What is it?”

Percy pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes. He started explaining his idea to Grog, and even though a lot of the nitty gritty flew over his head, he understood enough to grin widely.

“This is fucking _awesome,_ ” he said. “You need any more help with it?”

Percy chuckled. “As a matter of fact,...”

* * *

Towards midnight on the evening of the celebration, Vax saw at least half of Vox Machina slinking off together.

At least, he _thought_ it was them. To be fair, he was pretty fucking tipsy and he couldn’t tell with _absolute_ certainty, but he was pretty confident he spotted Percy’s white head and Grog’s bald one.

And he had no idea where they were off to. So, naturally, he sneaked after them.

He wished he could say he was doing a good job of being stealthy, but the third time he hugged a wall to keep himself from tripping, he had to admit he wasn’t. Still, he followed the sounds of loud talking--was that Victor’s voice?--and Grog’s rumbling laughter (so it was them after all), and eventually, he found his family clustered in the middle of a small square.

“What are you fuckers up to?” he whisper-shouted.

Pike, who was perched on Grog’s shoulder, turned around and enthusiastically waved him closer. “Vax, Percy’s going to explode something!”

“Is that safe?” Vax inquired, but still, he walked up to them.

Percy, who was kneeling next to something Vax couldn’t quite make out in the dark, chuckled. “It’s pretty safe. I’m fairly sure I managed not to make it too loud.” He was holding a match and some tinder in his hands. His teeth glistened in the dark as he grinned. “Get ready to run, though.”

“Light it!” a shrill voice ordered, and what the shit, it really was Victor.

Before Vax could say anything, a flame flicked to life. “Everyone ready?”

Everyone confirmed. Victor huffed impatiently.

The flame lowered and caught on a piece of rope. “Run!” Percy shouted.

All of them bolted down the street and Vax could hear himself start giggling. Soon, all of them were laughing breathlessly, footsteps thundering down the cobblestone.

Behind them, there was a crackle, then something boomed, and a wave of light washed over them.

They stopped and turned around. They were standing on top of a small hill overlooking the square they’d come from. The surrounding houses were dark, and so was the castle, a little ways off to the right. The sky above them was an inky black.

Light flared up in the middle of the square and shot up into the air. Above their heads, the lights burst into fountains of colourful sparks that rained onto the city. For a moment, Vax was sure that everyone within the magical shield was watching the spectacle, and he had never felt belonging quite as keenly.

He leaned against Grog’s bicep, wrapped an arm around Pike's shoulders, and looked up at the blooming, cascading lights.

**Author's Note:**

> i admit this sort of got away from me and from the original prompt, but i hope that's okay! i had a lot of fun writing it. vox machina deserve a fucking day of not worrying about saving the world, and cassandra deserves to live a long, happy, safe life.
> 
> again, a huge thank you to [shadrad](http://shadradraws.tumblr.com) for the wonderful artwork! i hope i did it justice c:
> 
> hit me up [@veniaebot](http://veniaebot.tumblr.com) if you want to shout about critrole and d&d.


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